What's His Name
by cr8vgrl
Summary: George watches from across a crowded club as the object of his affections gets asked to dance.  What happens when things get too personal and he takes matters into his own hands?  Gift for Preetoaka Raven Potter Weasley!  ONESHOT ONLY!


**A/N: Technically, it's no longer her birthday, but this was a super fast birthday request from Preetoaka Raven Potter Weasley, so I hope it's okay! It's a bit edgier than I normally write, so be warned! Happy Birthday!  
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George Weasley leaned against the bar at the latest nightclub in Diagon Alley, his lanky frame stretched out in a position of faux relaxedness. His ankles were crossed, his short hair slightly mussed, and an expression of perpetual boredom was plastered on his face. As he watched the witches and wizards mingle, dance, and party, he instinctively sought out his brother.

Why he had listened when his friends insisted that they needed to spend a night out on the town, he had no idea. After the War, and watching the near-death experience his brother went through, George mellowed considerably and lost most of his will to party. Especially not in loud clubs with a bunch of drunks waving their wands around.

The wooden kind, of course.

"Relax, Forge," Fred had told him before they left. "Just enjoy the night. You and I need a night out of the shop to just have some fun. Maybe we'll even find some pretty birds to keep us company for the night." He had winked and George had just rolled his eyes, reluctant to tag along with his overly vivacious brother.

It had seemed like a harmless idea at the time, but now….

_Brunette hair falling in waves that brushed her shoulder blades. Little black dress, like the ones the muggles were so fond of, that hugged her every curve and accentuated the flare of her hips. Long, gorgeous legs that went on for at least a mile, and heels that added another mile and a half to that._

Merlin, she was gorgeous!

"Whatcha lookin' at, Georgie?" a voice identical to George's asked.

George dropped his gaze from the goddess in front of him and swirled the drink in his hand. "Nothing," he muttered.

"What was that?" Fred called out over the music.

George glared at him, knowing full well that even over the pounding beats and the yelling in the club, his brother could still hear him perfectly fine. "Nothing!" he growled louder.

"Fine then," Fred huffed. "You don't have to get so sensitive just 'cause I asked you to repeat yourself." He winked and patted his brother on the shoulder. "Don't stay here all night." He wound his way back into the throng of people, easily sliding behind a witch in a gold dress and beginning to dance.

George shook his head, a grin creeping across his face despite himself. In some ways, he envied his brother. Having no recollection of the wall exploding on top of him, Fred was free to act just the way he always had, but George constantly found himself regressing, even cringing sometimes when something reminded him of that day. "Idiot." He wasn't really sure whether he was talking about Fred, or about himself.

The music was pounding through the club, the lights flashing brilliantly over the grinding couples on the floor, but all George could think about was the goddess in black. He searched the crowd for her again, his eyes skimming over all of the other females in the club until he found her. She was standing on the fringe of the dancers, talking to George's sister, Ginny. Even with the unpredictable lighting and the distance between them, George could see the way her beautiful eyes flashed when she laughed.

_I want her._

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, her eyes shifted straight to him. Their gazes locked across the crowded floor and his skin began to tingle when her lips parted. It was like she knew exactly what he was thinking. She returned his gaze, holding it as long as he did, and then the world around them began to slip away…

Until some guy walked up and placed his hand on her shoulder.

Oh _heck_ no.

George's fingers tightened against the stem of his glass as the goddess broke their connection and turned to see who was attempting to get her attention. To his great consternation, the invading bloke asked her a question, and with one last, taunting glance George's way, his goddess accepted the idiot's hand and followed him out onto the dance floor.

"_Don't react, don't react. She wants you to react!"_

George sworn under his breath and downed the rest of his drink in one agitated gulp. How dare that man put his hands of her? Did he not see that she was so far above him that his glassy eyes couldn't even see that far? Just who did he think he was?

This possessiveness kind of scared him.

"See something you like?"

George turned and glanced over at Fred, who had collapsed against the bar next to him, his face sweaty and alight with mischievous happiness. "Who does he think he is?" he asked his twin, letting his guard down for the first time that night.

Fred scanned the crowd. "Uh…you're going to have to be more specific, Georgie. Who?"

George waved over the bartender and downed another drink in two swigs, causing Fred to frown anxiously at his twin. "Him," George growled, jerking his head in the general direction of where his goddess was practically being mauled by her dance partner. He called for the bartender again, but Fred pulled his arm down and shook his head at the approaching mixologist.

"Forge, I think you're done for the night," Fred told George, concern written across his brow.

George laughed hollowly. "I'm not drunk, Gred."

"I know, but if you keep that up, you sure will be." He threw a glance over his shoulder just in time to see the object of his brother's affections throw a glance over their way. He gave her a warning glare.

"I'm fine," George said tersely.

"Maybe we should call it a night?" Fred suggested. "We can go no-"

George shook his head. "No. You go enjoy yourself. I'm fine." When Fred hesitated, George added, "I promise. No more drinks."

Fred nodded. "Good." He patted his brother once more on the shoulder and smirked the famous Weasley Twin smirk. "Have fun tonight!" And then he was gone again.

George turned his attention back to the dance floor, instinctively looking for the girl he'd been eyeing all night. The music was pounding in his ears, magically amplified, and his heart seemed to be pounding along with it as he watched the couple grind to the beat. Her eyes flashed in George's direction as the other wizard's hands began sliding up the sides of her thighs, almost challenging him to come and take a chance with her, and the George did not miss the slight cringe that overtook her body when her partner began to drag her dress up, nor did he overlook the way she pulled away from said partner slightly.

Without conscious thought, George pushed away from the bar and began striding toward the section of that dance floor that had captured his full attention. The goddess watched his approach with a smirk of triumph on her lips, completely ignoring her partner, who was doing Merlin-knows-what with his hips at the moment.

George thought of a million snappy retorts, and a million more ways to hex this puny little man before him, but decided against all of them by gripping the woman's arm and apparating on the spot.

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"George! What the he-"

"Watch it, Hermione," George growled out, stopping the angry witch in front of him from swearing.

"I'll say whatever I want, George Weasley!" she yelled back. "I'm a grown woman and _you don't own me_!"

The blood pounded through George's veins, the rushing making his ears ring. "Well you should show a little more discretion when you're out in public. Merlin, Mione, he was crawling all over you!"

"That's the style of dancing they do at clubs! Don't like it, don't go!"

"Well _you_ shouldn't be dressing like that when you go out! What was his name?" George shot back, and then instantly regretted it when he saw the flash of anger in Hermione's eyes. Now he'd done it.

"Why should I tell you? And what exactly was I dressed like? Like a real woman? Dressed like someone other than your little brother's best friend?" She stepped closer, her heels making an ominous clicking against the wood floor of George's living room. "Why? Did you like it? Did you see that I've grown up, George? Does it scare you?"

George gulped and answered honestly, "Yes." It was so breathy that Hermione almost didn't hear it.

"Why?" she taunted. "Because you're not man enough to cross a crowded room to hit on me like he was?"

He'd never treated a woman the way he wanted to treat Hermione right now. In his mind, women were to be treated with respect. But now, with this gorgeous woman in front of him, George let the memories of the night flood back and before Hermione knew it, she was being slammed back against the wall. "No," he rasped. "I'm scared because I'm going to make you forget your own name, much less his."

Hermione's eyes flew open and her jaw fell open as she gasped for air. She barely recognized that George had cradled the back of her head and taken most of the impact on his knuckles, before he was capturing her mouth with his. His lips were moving almost feverishly over hers, and the hand cradling her head and neck was fisting her hair tightly. Hermione gasped, which gave George the chance to deepen the kiss, which he took eagerly.

"George," she gasped when George began assaulting her neck with nips and kisses. It felt so good that Hermione's body forgot to be mad and instead arched into George's body, pressing them flush together.

Both of them groaned and George worked his way back up to Hermione's ear. "_You're mine_," he said lowly.

"You think so?" Hermione asked breathlessly, blinding searching for his mouth to take hers once again.

George grinned against her mouth. "I know so," he hissed, one hand sliding up the back of her thigh and tugging, causing Hermione to hop up and wrap her legs around his waist as he brought his lips to her again.

They continued to kiss as George maneuvered his way clumsily through the living room, supporting Hermione's wriggling figure plastered around him. "So," he gasped raggedly while he fumbled with the doorknob to his bedroom, "what was his name?"

Hermione drew in a sharp breath as George nipped sharply at her collar bone. "W-wouldn't you like to know," she retorted as he slammed the door behind them, throwing up a silencing charm in case Fred decided to drop in unexpectedly.

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"You never did tell me what his name was," George murmured lazily, trailing his fingers up and down Hermione's bare arm.

Hermione snuggled deeper into his side and sighed happily. "That wasn't the point of the evening, Georgie."

It was George's turn to sigh as his unoccupied fingers fiddled with the wedding band on Hermione's hand, which was resting on his chest. "I know, and I understand that you wanted to do something exciting for your birthday, but are you really sure that that's what you wanted?"

Hermione smirked and pressed a quick kiss to her husband's cheek. "Yup!" Then, feeling the need to clarify, she went on, "We're amazing together, George, but you constantly act like you're going to break me, and so I had to do something to make you mad enough to lose some of your control." She winked. "I'd say it worked, wouldn't you?"

Unfortunately, she was right, and so George conceded with a wide grin of his own. "Slytherin," he accused half-heartedly. After a pause, his grin widened even more. "It _was_ pretty fun…"

Hermione laughed and slapped his chest before wrapping her arms around him and whispering, "I love you, George."

"Love you too, Mione. Happy Birthday."

"Mmm," she responded, half cheeky half exhausted. "It totally was."

He chuckled into her hair. "Minx."

After only a few minutes, Hermione whispered, "George?"

"Hmm?"

In the darkness, Hermione smirked. "I never even asked him his name."

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**A/N: *peeks out from behind her fingers* was that okay? I hope so! Preetoaka, I know you asked for a slightly more submissive Hermione, but this one just kinda flowed, so I hope that's okay! Hope you had a great day!**


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